stuff.’
The postal worker studied what was obviously the barrel of an anti-aircraft gun. ‘How the blazes did you get this?’
Luc wasn’t sure if the postal worker had seen him drag the gun off the bus, but he was running out of excuses and he decided to chance it. ‘I’ve been helping out in the lost property. It was left on a train. I had it on a trolley but the bus clipped it.’
The postal worker looked confused. ‘I thought you were on the bus?’
‘No,’ Luc said. ‘I was walking by. The bus charged up on the pavement and I dived out of the way as it hit the archway.’
‘Well, I expect the police will want to speak with you if you witnessed it, but we can let them know where you are.’
‘I just want my mum,’ Luc replied, rubbing his eye like he was going to cry. ‘But I can’t carry this lot without a trolley and she’ll give me hell if someone nicks it.’
The postal worker smiled. ‘I should think when she sees what nearly hit you she’ll be happy enough to see that you’re alive. But I’ll get you a trolley from the post room and we can walk you over there.’
‘The lost property is just by platform three,’ Luc said.
‘Mike, Joe,’ the postal worker shouted. ‘The lad’s all shaken up and he needs to get this lot over to his mum in the lost property office.’
As more people crowded around the damaged archway, two strapping postal workers came and picked the gun out of the road. Luc grabbed the sack, but the man he’d been talking to insisted on carrying it for him.
Luc followed the three men through a side door. Inside were lines of wheeled cages designed for holding mailbags inside train carriages. The men dropped the gun and sack into an empty cage and wheeled it towards the station concourse, passing the front four coaches of the Royal Mail train being loaded at platform one.
As Luc followed the mailmen up towards the lost property counter, he sighted three familiar figures coming in the opposite direction with a tall cloth-wrapped object strapped to a two-wheeled trolley.
Paul, Marc and Rosie weren’t exactly Luc’s friends, but they all smiled instinctively as they recognised each other.
‘Bugger me sideways,’ Marc grinned.
The postman lifted the sack and the gun on to the lost property counter and disappeared with the wheeled cage. The lost property attendant was out the back, looking for yellow felt gloves which belonged to a posh lady who stood at the far end of the counter.
‘We thought you were stuck up a tree,’ Rosie told Luc.
‘I was sure you three would mess up without me, so I thought I’d better grab a gun myself,’ Luc explained.
‘Did you hear that big bang a few minutes ago?’ PT asked.
‘No,’ Luc said, trying not to smile. ‘Didn’t hear a thing.’
The attendant came out with the yellow gloves and handed them to the posh lady.
‘What do you lot want?’ the woman asked cheerlessly.
Rosie pointed to the two guns and two sacks standing on the counter. ‘Special delivery for Air Vice Marshal Walker,’ she explained.
‘Oh, him,’ she said with contempt, before turning and yelling behind the counter, ‘Got more of your lot out here, Walker.’
The Air Vice Marshal’s chin dropped as he came around the counter and saw the four youngsters.
‘Good afternoon, sir,’ Marc and PT said jovially.
‘Jolly nice to see you, old bean,’ Rosie added, mocking Walker’s crusty accent.
‘I see,’ Walker said weakly, before looking at his watch. ‘You have a gun then?’
The four kids smiled as Rosie pointed at the counter. ‘Actually, sir, we somehow seem to have ended up with a pair of them.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
It was late evening by the time Group A made it back to campus. Paul was the only one who hadn’t missed a night’s sleep, so he woke up before the others and hobbled down to breakfast in the hall. The six boys in Group B had already been out on a training run and sat at a long table. They wore damp combat gear and their muddy boots were piled up by the door.
‘Paul!’ Sam said excitedly when he saw him. ‘Good to see you, mate. We’re all dying to know what happened. We heard that your parachute busted.’
Paul was shy and didn’t like everyone watching him as he took slices of buttered bread, cheese and a boiled egg from the serving trolley. He’d have preferred to sit quietly on his own, but Group B